


Mexican Fairytale

by Amuly



Category: Marvel 616
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Kissing, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mexico
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 17:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16351406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amuly/pseuds/Amuly
Summary: Everything had been a story, then. Rise and fall, low points, highs of victory, moments of insurmountable odds, would the crowd favorite stand up, rise again, overcome it all? That was all far, far behind him. A world and a century away. He was here, now, in the real world. A messy world, without a cohesive plot, with people just living their lives, five billion stories, five billion protagonists, none of it making any narrative sense, most of it uncompelling. And Shatterstar was just one of that five billion, trying to stand by his friend. His best friend. His only friend.Shatterstar's life doesn't fit into a tidy narrative anymore. The only thing he knows for sure is that Julio is his best friend, and they're together.





	Mexican Fairytale

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a great piece of art by [ppitte](http://ppitte.tumblr.com/) that I saw on [this twitter post](https://twitter.com/geneticghost/status/1038860564620038146) (2nd piece).

The problem was, clubs didn’t fit into the narrative.

Shatterstar scowled as he ordered another _agua_ , thanking the bartender who shot him a wink. Shatterstar ignored him. That didn’t fit into the narrative, either. Nothing seemed to, these days.

But he had known that when he’d left X-Force to follow Julio on his personal mission. Shatterstar had long given up the thought that he would return to his people victorious, help them complete their revolution with the great heroes The X-Men. Even longer still since Shatterstar had fought in the gladiatorial arenas, every move he made edited carefully into the narrative. _The_ Narrative, the overarching story Mojo wanted to watch, his audiences wanted to watch. Everything had been a story, then. Rise and fall, low points, highs of victory, moments of insurmountable odds, would the crowd favorite stand up, rise again, overcome it all? That was all far, far behind him. A world and a century away. He was here, now, in the real world. A messy world, without a cohesive plot, with people just living their lives, five billion stories, five billion protagonists, none of it making any narrative sense, most of it uncompelling. And Shatterstar was just one of that five billion, trying to stand by his friend. His best friend. His only friend.

His only friend, who was currently dancing up a sweaty mess in the middle of the club, hands above his head, beer bottle dangling carelessly from his fingertips. Women giggled and laughed around him, dark-haired and brown skinned, like Julio. If he didn’t shine in Shatterstar’s vision, lit by that special kind of lighting reserved for protagonists, Julio might blend right into the crowd. But of course, he didn’t. Because Shatterstar knew him, and his broken, Mojo-molded brain centered Julio perfectly in the cinematography of his mind.

 _Was that poetic? That’s pathetic_.

Shatterstar missed New York. He downed the water quickly and turned back to the bartender to ask for another. This place was too hot for him. He constantly had a low-level sunburn, even for all his healing factor. Actually, the healing factor might be why, he suspected: he never burned, so his skin never darkened. Julio had said healing factor or no, he was ginger, he couldn’t expect to spend all day with his arm out a car window and not end up with lobster-red skin. Julio had laughed as he said it, pressing his fingers into Shatterstar’s arm and pulling them away, to watch the white spots they left behind slowly fade back to red.

Shatterstar shivered and downed the fresh glass of water. He didn’t know why he thought of that touch, just now. Maybe it was all these bodies. Julio had said he should have fun, “blow off steam.” But Shatterstar knew it wouldn’t work.

He knew what Rictor expected of him. Dance, make some sort of connection with a woman. Stumble out with her, go to their shared apartment. Have sexual intercourse with her, then send her home. But so much of it didn’t fit for him. He could dance—he was Mojo’s best gladiator, he was well adept at the lines of his body, the sight he could make in motion. He could capture an audience, easily. But so, he dances. He has many women dancing with him, because he is so very beautiful. Then how does this connection happen? How does one of the women rise above the others? They were a faceless mass right now, men and women, dancing in this club. None of them leapt out at him as secondary characters. They were extras, recyclable moving props.

Shatterstar shook his head. Julio would scold him for thinking that way. So then: suppose a woman makes herself known. A connection… happens. However that is. Then: the walk home. He and Julio lived twenty, thirty minutes from this club. Would he and the woman talk the whole way? About what? If they did not talk, would they just walk in hurried silence, onwards to their destination? _He_ would do such a thing, but he couldn’t picture a human woman doing the same.

This is what montages were for. Or at least a series of rapid-cuts. Club scene _cut_ giggling on the walk _cut_ groping in the apartment _cut_ sending her home, door shutting behind her. Shatterstar turning back to Rictor, who was there, waiting for him. Them settling into their shared bed together, the only one they could afford…

Shatterstar squirmed against the bar. He straightened. He would go relieve himself.

A man made some overt overtures at him in the bathroom, but Shatterstar shook his head and pushed past. That had happened before, and Julio had explained it to him, sputtering over his coffee.

 _“He_ what _?!”_

_“I believe he was asking me for sexual intercourse. ‘Chupa-’”_

_Julio waved his hands dramatically. “Oh, oh, shit ‘Star. Yeah. Uh…” Julio’s hair had fallen in front of his eyes, shadowing them dramatically. “So what’d you do?”_

_“I explained that I was not interested and left. Is that appropriate?”_

_Julio sighed noisily, hair blowing every which way. Shatterstar almost smiled._

_“Well, probably doesn’t rank in the top ten worst responses that guy’s got before…”_

_Shatterstar frowned. “Should I respond otherwise in the future?”_

_Julio laughed and shook his head. He stood, carrying his empty coffee mug to the counter. He patted Shatterstar’s shoulder as he passed, squeezing it roughly. “Not unless you want to, ‘Star.”_

Back in the main part of the club, Shatterstar spotted Julio immediately, gaze planting Julio center-frame, like it always did. Julio had apparently gotten a fresh beer and was swigging at it, hips still gyrating, smile blinding as he looked at some woman in front of him. His hair was loose, everywhere, sticking to his neck, his forehead. Even though Shatterstar had properly hydrated himself, his throat felt dry.

Julio tossed his head back, laughing, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Shatterstar swallowed and felt his own Adam’s apple bob out of mirror reflex. When Julio dropped his head his eyes met Shatterstar’s, across the club. Shatterstar’s arms broke out in goosebumps.

See? _That_ was a narrative. _That_ was structure.

Julio made his way over to Shatterstar slowly, extracting himself from many pretty women. Eventually, finally, he was close enough to grab Shatterstar’s arm and pull him in tight. His breath smelled like beer.

“Ready to go?”

It was a stupid question, because Shatterstar had never wanted to come in the first place. But he nodded, and resisted the urge to pull Julio’s hair from his sweat-damp skin and into a ponytail. He’d never seen a man do that to another man on the television, so it was probably not done. He was starting to pick up on these things. Subtleties of human interaction.

Julio dragged him over to the bar and ordered two beers to go, of course. Shatterstar took his reluctantly—he couldn’t get easily drunk, certainly not off a low-proof beer, and he hated the taste. But Julio was drinking with him, and Julio’s breath smelled like the beer in his hand, so Shatterstar took an obliging swallow from his glass as they exited the club.

The night air felt cool, after the hot stifflingness of the club. It was hardly cool by any reasonable standards, but there was a beachy breeze, maybe. Shatterstar sighed and nearly closed his eyes in relief. Much better. Now it was just him and Julio: co-protagonists of Shatterstar’s story. Shatterstar walked too-close to Julio and allowed himself a moment’s happiness.

“Alright, ‘Star. What do I got to do to get you to relax?”

“Relax?”

“You won’t dance, won’t cut loose…”

Shatterstar shrugged. “It is fine. It relaxes you, which is important. I do not really…”

“Shut up, you totally relax. Or is watching _telenovelas_ all morning on our bed ‘research?’”

“It is both,” Shatterstar pointed out. Fairly, he thought.

Julio nudged Shatterstar. “Hey, check it.” After glancing around dramatically, Julio tossed his empty beer bottle high towards an alley. At the top of its arc, he brought his hands together, fingers pointed out like guns as he focused his vibrational powers. The bottle shattered under the force of Julio’s shockwave, sprinkling glass in a shower of shinning shards.

“Your control has improved much,” Shatterstar complimented him.

Julio shrugged. “Guess Cable’s good for something, huh?”

Lord Cable was good for many things, in Shatterstar’s opinion, but he wisely did not mention this to Julio. He knew Julio’s feelings on the matter.

“So what’s the problem? Are you afraid you’re going to pop a boner like the last time?”

Shatterstar frowned, parsing the strange phraseology. ‘Last time’ must refer to that time with that Stecky girl, the last time Shatterstar had assented to do anything in a club besides stand at the bar. But the rest…

“‘Pop a boner?’”

Julio didn’t even hesitate; he was used to translating literally for Shatterstar: “It means your penis got erect, hard.”

Ah. Shatterstar flushed, though he wasn’t sure exactly why. Domino had sat down with him one day and given him a quick biology lesson, catching him up with Earth-standard. He remembered the sexual reproduction unit, though he hadn’t considered it would ever be of use to someone like him. He certainly wasn’t planning on marrying Windsong, now that he was a free man on Earth. And anything other than the arranged marriage…

Shatterstar shook his head. He couldn’t picture the narrative, in his mind. Not yet.

“That’s not what happened,” Shatterstar corrected Julio.

“Really? I always figured…” Julio glanced at him askance. “Uh… can you? Pretty sure you have something there-  not that I ever got a good look, you know, just. Missions. Showers.”

“I have a human-equivalent penis,” Shatterstar agreed. “And it can get hard. I often wake up that way, though it softens quickly.”

“ _Madre de dios,_ ” Julio muttered, though Shatterstar wasn’t sure why. He hated not knowing so much.

They walked further down the road. Shatterstar enjoyed moments like this, when it was just him and Julio, alone in the world. This felt like it could fit a narrative. Two outlaws, alone except for each other. Them against the world. Making their way through the North American southwest, seeking out evil-doers, righting wrongs. That was a compelling story. Or it could be for a time, at least.

They were almost at their apartment. Shatterstar tugged on Julio’s wrist. “Julio, can we keep walking?” He didn’t want tonight to end, when it felt like they’d spent so little of it together.

Julio blinked at him, still fairly drunk. Then he shrugged. “Sure, dude. You just wanna walk, grab something to eat…?”

Relief coursed through Shatterstar. And excitement, too. Late nights spent together, between the two protagonists, was always when something happened. A new mission was found, or clarity in feelings gained. Shatterstar could only hope for the story to bring him clarity in feelings, externally. It certainly wouldn’t come internally.

“Just walking.”

Julio shoved his hands in his pockets. “After you, _amigo_.”

They walked farther in silence, though it didn’t feel silent to Shatterstar. His mind was whirring, though what it was thinking, Shatterstar couldn’t quite figure out. Julio, the club, Stecky, ‘boners.’ And the narrative, the lack of it, behind it all. His mind was trying to make something that would make sense, some sort of common thread he could tie all those moments together with, come out the other side with a theme, moral, tidy little ending that made the crowds hum with satisfaction.

Except, of course, there were no crowds, when it was just him and Julio.

“I don’t like the crowds, always,” Shatterstar offered. “And the noise, the music, the lights. It is much like it was in the gladiatorial arenas on Mojoworld.”

Julio’s mouth fell open, a soft, almost inaudible _ah_ falling from his lips. Shatterstar stared at them.

“Sorry,” Julio apologized. “You know, if you tell me stuff like that, then I’ll know it, and stop dragging you to the clubs.”

“I just said it.”

“Well, now I know.”

Julio’s shoulder bumped his. Shatterstar smiled at the touch, though he didn’t know why.

“Is it anything else? That’s bugging you tonight?” Julio asked.

Julio had just told him to be honest, so Shatterstar took a moment and thought. But he wasn’t sure how to do this type of honesty. Julio always did it for him.

“I’m sorry, Julio. I do not know.”

Julio nodded. But he was such a good friend, he understood what Shatterstar meant. He fell silent with Shatterstar, apparently deep in thought. Though Shatterstar wasn’t sure exactly how deeply Julio could be thinking, given his state of inebriation.

“Do you feel positive or negative?” Julio asked after a moment. It was how they’d figured out they could zero in on something like defined emotions for Shatterstar. He was grateful he had such a good friend as Julio.

“…Positive, now,” Shatterstar told him. “Very positive. I like walking with you, Julio.”

“But how’d you feel in the club?”

“Negative.”

A funny expression came over Julio’s face, like he was annoyed with himself, but also laughing. “Yeah, I guess I knew that already. No girls giving you trouble? Not like Stecky?”

Shatterstar shook his head. “No. They leave me alone. I have mastered A Face.” He demonstrated the face for Julio. “It signals to the women that I am not interested in dancing.”

Julio laughed when he saw his face. “That’ll do it,” he confirmed. After a moment’s more thought: “Are you feeling negative because I abandon you at the bar and go dance?”

Shatterstar stared down the street they were walking. The streetlights had ended a while ago, and the road was getting darker and darker as they walked out of town. Shatterstar liked that. No glaring lights. No prying eyes. There was no audience except the one in his mind.

“I do not know,” he finally admitted. “Maybe partly, but it doesn’t feel like the right answer.”

Gravel skidded under Julio’s feet as he came to an abrupt stop. Shatterstar could smell the alcohol on his breath as Julio turned to him.

“Julio?”

“Okay, let’s run a feeling’s experiment,” Julio announced.

Shatterstar wasn’t sure he liked the sound of that. But Julio apparently thought it was a grand idea, because he plowed on.

“I’ve got a theory. Okay, don’t punch me.”

And then Julio was grabbing the back of Shatterstar’s head, and he flinched, because what was Julio doing? But Julio was pulling him down, and standing on tip-toes, and it was dark, but Shatterstar could see Julio’s eyes were closed, his lips pursed. Almost exactly as it happened, Shatterstar realized what was happening, so all at once he was kissing Julio and realizing he was kissing Julio.

Shatterstar wasn’t sure what to do. One hand came up, but he wasn’t going to hit Julio, of course, it was a silly thing for Julio to even say. And then Julio was kissing him harder, lips pressing firm and wet and kinda open and… sucking, huh.

Julio’s lips did not feel badly against his own.

Julio’s hand grabbed at Shatterstar’s, and only as Julio manipulated him did Shatterstar realize he didn’t know what any of his limbs were doing, or where they were. Until that hand was suddenly on Julio’s ass, Julio holding it firmly there, and then his tongue swiped at Shatterstar’s lips.

Shatterstar’s whole body shuddered. His brain stopped.

He wasn’t sure how long had passed when Julio pulled back. Julio’s lips were shiny-wet, Shatterstar could see with his preternaturally good night vision. His lips were wet, too. Dazedly Shatterstar lifted a hand to his own lips. That was Julio’s spit on them. It should be gross, but it felt… not.

“Okay, ‘Star. Positive or negative?”

“Positive,” Shatterstar answered immediately. He hadn’t even thought it, he’d just _felt_ it, and…

“Oh. Julio.”

Julio winced and took a step back. “Yeah?”

“I like this.”

“...right…”

Shatterstar shook his head. His face grew hot, eyes wet as he struggled to put into words what he had no words for. He hated this. It was so important, right now, in this moment, to say some words to Julio, he knew that. But he didn’t know what words, didn’t know what feelings, would need what felt like years to understand it all. But he wasn’t certain he had years, that Julio would let him hang around for that long. After all, Julio had already left him before. Shatterstar had to say the words, whatever they were. Now, before Julio lost patience with him and left again.

“I… I like this.” He said again, lamely. He could cry with frustration.

But Julio. Julio stepped forward again. His fingers ghosted out, circling around Shatterstar’s and pulling him in. Shatterstar gripped his hand tight, squeezing maybe too hard, but Julio didn’t say anything. Then Julio kissed him again and Shatterstar tried to imitate him, sucking on his lips (“No, whoa, okay, softer, light touch, ‘Star…”), licking his tongue out (“ _way_ too much, gross, ‘Star. No, don’t leave, c’mon. Just… here, like this”), and, eventually, squeezing his hand firmly on Julio’s butt. That part he got right, he was pleased to find out.

Julio shook his head, groaning slightly. “Whoa, okay, I, uh, might have drank too much…” he mumbled. Shatterstar held Julio’s arm worriedly. “Was trying to work up the courage to do that forever and figured if I drank enough…”

Shatterstar wasn’t sure what that all meant, but his chest was full of positive feelings, and Julio was the source of all those positive feelings, not just tonight but for all his time on Earth, so Shatterstar just held Julio up and waited to be able to do something else useful.

They made it back, though Shatterstar was mostly carrying Julio by the end. He made Julio drink several glasses of water from their tap, then relieve himself before letting him collapse into bed. Thinking nothing of it, Shatterstar stripped himself before crawling into bed with Julio, as they did every night. Julio snuffled his face against Shatterstar’s chest and groaned.

“I might puke.”

Shatterstar’s hands fluttered around, again without a place in this new position with Julio. Eventually he settled one over Julio, fingers stroking lightly at his spine, skin damp with sweat. Julio shivered against him.

“That is alright,” Shatterstar reassured him. “I will help you get to the bathroom if you need to swiftly.”

“ _Dios_ , you’re the best,” Julio mumbled. “And fucking gay, too, I can’t believe it. Like me. Like a fucking… fairytale.”

Shatterstar was not sure what Julio meant by all those things. He was the best at some things, like swordsmanship, but certainly not at many other things. He wasn’t sure if he was ‘gay’ (he knew what context Julio meant that in, thanks to his time with X-Force). He felt positively about Julio, and about kissing Julio, and about lightly groping Julio above his clothes. He felt positively right now, stroking Julio’s bare back, as they lay together in bed. Alternatively, he had not felt positively about Stecky groping him, nor had he about any woman yet. But the women in the clubs Julio dragged him to were all background characters. Might he feel differently about a woman who was a co-protagonist, like Julio was? Maybe. But negative feeling started to creep in when he thought like that, so maybe not. Right now he just wanted Julio for his… everything. So perhaps he was gay, though he could not be certain.

He _was_ certain he was no fairytale. A fable, maybe—though one that ended well or badly for him, he wasn’t sure yet. An adventure story, most definitely. Action-packed and thrilling. A saga, possibly: if he lived long enough. But a fairytale?

Then again, there were swords and blood and death aplenty in the Earth fairytales he’d consumed since coming here. And there was often romance, a protagonist rescuing a fair maiden and winning her love (who was the maiden of them, though? Shatterstar frowned and remembered the one time Bobby had called him “Rapunzel”). But the narrative of a fairytale didn’t _not_ fit… Shatterstar had come from a far off land, been thrown in amongst unfamiliars. Found a family, forged connections, met… Julio. His best friend. His guide. His everything. So then, a fairytale, maybe. It was a narrative, at least. And Shatterstar so needed one, right now.

Julio puked once, when he woke up at five in the morning. Shatterstar helped him and forced him to drink more water before leaving him in bed. Shatterstar went through his morning conditioning routine, then ate, researched Julio’s family, and bought groceries, all before Julio awoke just before noon.

After he emerged from the bathroom, Shatterstar put a glass of water and mug of coffee on their one rickety table, in the spot where Julio always sat. Then he forced his mouth into a smile, though he knew he didn’t do it quite right.

“Julio: I still feel very positively about you.”

Julio laughed as he lowered himself down into the kitchen chair. His hair hid his expression as he chuckled, but Shatterstar could see the tension drain from Julio’s shoulders. It was the right thing to say, then. Shatterstar was very pleased to see that. He had thought about it all morning.

“Yeah, well…” Julio’s palms curled around his coffee mug before he glanced up at Shatterstar from under his hair. “I guess I feel pretty positively about you, too. Still.”

“I would like to kiss again,” Shatterstar told him. “I studied the _telenovela’s_ very carefully this morning, and I would like to improve my technique.”

For some reason, Julio’s eyes lit up, grin splitting his face like he couldn’t help it, though he wiped his hand over his face twice to try and contain it.

“Well, you know. That’s practically training, you know? We’ll have to do it every day, regularly. Multiple times a day.”

Shatterstar nodded. “I agree.”

Julio laughed out loud then, before stumbling up and over to Shatterstar’s chair. He pushed it back far enough so that he could settle in Shatterstar’s lap. Shatterstar blinked up curiously at him. He thought Julio would want more rest before more kissing, but this was good, too.

Apparently his technique really had improved already. Shatterstar was a fast learner.

Later things would get messy again. Later there would be more feelings, and complexity, and Shatterstar would falter (and so would Julio). But for now, Shatterstar had a narrative, and he had his partner, and he knew what they were. It was them against the world, stopping evil-doers, righting wrongs, and then kissing a lot because they were the best friends this world had ever seen. Or something like that.

 


End file.
